Important
towns have great utilitarian markets of cement and galvanized
tin where shrewd Arabs and Chinese keep regular shops of cloth
and imported knick-knacks, but the average holds market under
the shadow, of the waringin or under square shades of straw mats
like umbrellas. A few people sell there everyday; the " big
" market takes place every third day of the of religius calendar.

There
are " market associations " organized in group of three
desas that work together, holding market in rotation every day
in each of the three villages. The women are-the financiers that
control the market; one seldom sees men in it. except in certain
trades or to help carry such a load as a fat pig. Even the money-changers
are women, who sit behind little filled with rolls of small change,
kepeng, Chinese brass coinswith a hole in the middle, worth a
small fraction of a cent (about five to seven to a cent according
to the current exchange). coins are strung into rolls of two hundred,
called satak (one string of twenty-five cents) . Prices in the
market vary according to the buyer; they are lowest to the villager
in his home town, slightly higher for the Balinese of other villages,
and considerably higher to foreigners. This is customary and understandable.
one takes, into consideration the communal spirit of the village

and of the Balinese. It is significant that an average meal in
the market costs a Balinese only twenty-five kepeng or about two
or three American cents. The Balinese do not count in the present
Dutch monetary system of guilders and cents; among themselves
they use only the smallest unit, the kepeng, and the largest,
the ringgit, big silver coins (worth two and a half guilders)
that are normally divided into 1,200 kepeng. The Balinese cannot
visualize a foreigner using kepengs and when I bought peanuts
or a banana at a food-stand and they did not have Dutch pennies
for change, the women vendors were amused to see me pocket a heavy
string of kepengs. Accustomed to dealing in hundreds and thousands,
they have acquired a surprising knowledge of mathematics, and
the women can add, subtract, multiply, or divide with the speed
of an adding machine. To test this ability we used to ask the
women of our household for multiplications of numbers of several
ciphers; with mysterious operations of a few kepengs spread on
their laps, they always found a quick and accurate result.

The
market reaches its height about noon, when it is bard to walk
through the crowd of semi-nude women. At that time the animation
is very great and the market resounds with the excited bargaining,
the constant coming and going of people, and the squealing of
the pigs that are mercilessly stuffed into baskets or carried
in the arms of the women like babies. The thousand smells of coconut
oil, flowers, spices, and dried fish combine to make the pungent
smell so characteristic of Balinese markets. The soft browns and
yellows of the women's skirts and the bright colored sashes they
wear, the graceful movements and unconscious beauty of their poses,
make of the market a show as interesting to watch as their luxurious
and spectacular feasts. The excitement subsides gradually in the
late afternoon, when the women return home loaded with the merchandise
they have bought or with the empty baskets balanced on one corner,
in the most absurd defiance of the laws of gravity, by the heavy
strings of kepengs that record the day's sales. Most markets have
a little shrine for the goddess of fertility and of gardens, Melanting,
alsothe deity of the market, to whom the vendors make small offerings
for good luck.